


Sweets

by MagicRobot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Candy, M/M, Original Character(s), Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicRobot/pseuds/MagicRobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swerve likes to spoil his sparkling. Trailcutter doesn't approve</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweets

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by tumblr stuff, like always.

Pathfinder was very quickly becoming a regular fixture in the bar. While the sparkling was still viewed upon as an odd commodity, many of Swerve’s patrons found his charm irresistible. Almost all of his customers walked up to greet the little bot, who was usually found on the bar top, with a rust stick or five shoved in his mouth. Some stayed and cooed at the sparkling the entire time, and Swerve would grin as Pathfinder giggled and squeaked  in return.

A few expressed concern over having a sparkling in such an unsavory place, but Swerve simply shrugged them off. “It’s not like I have anyone to watch him,” Swerve had told a few, “besides, he’s quiet and everyone behaves when he’s around.” 

And so, little Pathfinder became a sort of mascot for Swerve’s bar, a pile of sweets in front of him to keep him occupied. Between bites of energon goodies, he loved to chitter at whoever had managed to catch his attention, babbling to them in sparkling talk. Swerve had teasingly stated that there was no denying that he was indeed his sparkling.

Pathfinder was a very easy-going sparkling, and Swerve adored him. If he could, he would spend every waking moment simply spoiling him. Instead, he compensated by feeding him piles of sweets and lavishing attention on him during lulls in business. In return, Pathfinder revelled in his creator’s affections, and squealed in delight whenever his treats were presented to him. 

Needless to say, Pathfinder was a content sparkling.

This cycle, the bar was slow, only a few customers milling around. Swerve took the opportunity to tidy up a bit, organizing his engex and cleaning various glasses. As he went, he cooed at Pathfinder, who was too busy munching on his energon goodies to pay attention to his creator much. Swerve simply chuckled and continued on his way.

It was around this time that Trailcutter decided to meander his way into the bar, siddling up to the bartop. Pathfinder squealed excitedly, reaching his stubby hands out for his sire, bits of sticky energon glued to his servos and face. Trailcutter sighed, but obliged his sparkling.

While Trailcutter was far from a neglectful sire, he was typically kept busy around the ship, doing various odd jobs. His unique ability proved to be extremely useful for several tasks, and Trailcutter was usually out until late into the night cycle. As such, he didn’t see his family often.

Pathfinder clung to his arm tightly as he waved Swerve down for a drink. The sparkling babbled to him as he waited for the bartender to respond and he couldn’t help but smile. Swerve eventually meandered over, greeting Trailcutter cheerfully. 

Trailcutter shot back a greeting before proceeding to knock back his drink in one gulp. The taste burned his intake, but pleased his tanks, and he groaned as the high-grade began to take effect. Trailcutter eyed the pile of sweets by his side disapprovingly.

“You know you’re not supposed to be feeding him that kind of stuff all the time, right?,” asked Trailcutter, curtly.

Swerve bristled. “What no, ‘how was your day?’”

Grunting, Trailcutter responded, “Ratchet’s already told you how unhealthy it is for him.” He grasped the rest of the sweets in one servo, shoving them into his subspace. Pathfinder gave a disgruntled peep in response, pawing at his sire’s chestplates where his sweets disappeared to. Trailcutter shook his helm.

“All these sweets aren’t good for him, and you know it.” Swerve looked down bashfully, while Pathfinder continued to paw at Trailcutter, little whines escaping his vocalizer.

“Fine, I won’t feed him any more treats. Happy?” said Swerve, his tone on the borderline of snappish and casual. Trailcutter smirked.

“Good.”

They both knew that this was only a temporary arrangement, that a few cycles from now, Swerve will be back to feeding Pathfinder an unnecessary amount of sweets. But, for now, Trailcutter simply wanted to drink and worry about that


End file.
